


The Veils of the Morning

by FluffyBeaumont



Series: Sufficiency [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Morning Kisses, Possession, Protective Leonard "Bones" McCoy, Sick Spock (Star Trek)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FluffyBeaumont/pseuds/FluffyBeaumont
Summary: When Spock awakens in McCoy's quarters, he realizes he isn't alone in his head...
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock
Series: Sufficiency [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645168
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	The Veils of the Morning

“And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, And evening full of the linnet’s wings. (William Butler Yeats, “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”)

He lay in his drugged sleep like one whose consciousness had fled, although this was not strictly true. He was aware of his original self and also the self of another, whose essence he had accepted at the instant of his physical death. This other was slowly becoming stronger than he, extruding numerous tendrils of his essential self into Spock’s psychic space, forcing him out.

He had so often tried to burn away everything that made him weak: emotion, negligence, lack of willpower. He had tried to burn away his personal failures, times when he had given less than his best, or had failed those who depended on him. The loss of Vulcan and the loss of his mother: these he could not forgive himself for. Also the ever-present press of emotion, which he tried unsuccessfully to banish with study and meditation. There was a deep, ragged-edged wound inside of him, made long before the destruction of Vulcan, long before his mother’s death. Occasionally and for brief periods of time he could forget it was there, attempt to bury it under work and study, the ongoing quest for logic’s elusive perfection, but it always reasserted itself, like a bursting boil. The more he tried to be the perfect Vulcan, the more human he became, and it disgusted him. He had tried repeatedly to reason his way out of this conundrum, and he always failed. When he tried to solve the problem, his logic failed and his mind threw up frustrating blocks that reduced his finest reasoning to dust and ashes.

He had been sleeping for a while; he knew this. The other now inhabiting his mind was awake, had always been that way, no longer needed rest. Inviting S’toya’s katra, agreeing to carry it to New Vulcan, was a mistake. S’toya wasn’t the person Spock assumed he was, but a malignant spirit, an aberration. He was using Spock’s body for reasons known only to him, but which had nothing to do with carrying his non-corporeal soul to New Vulcan for interment. What his exact origin was, Spock didn’t know, nor was he entirely cognizant of S’toya’s intentions once he reached the re-established Vulcan homeworld. But Spock doubted S’toya intended anything good.

He woke slowly, pulling himself up through soft layers of chemical sleep to full consciousness. He was lying next to a warm body – Leonard McCoy, sleeping peacefully on his stomach, his cheek pillowed on his arm. Spock reached out and stroked the doctor’s cheek with a fingertip. When McCoy opened his eyes, Spock leaned close and kissed him, a kiss that turned into a torrid caress that went on for some time. “Good morning,” McCoy murmured. He cupped Spock’s cheek in his palm. “Damn, boy.” His voice was husky with sleep. “You wore me out last night.”

The presence inside Spock’s head shifted and snickered. For all that it was incorporeal, it still had thoughts separate and distinct from Spock’s own. _You consort with the Human like a common whore._ “You appeared to enjoy being worn out,” Spock said. He had a clear memory of everything that had occurred between them the previous night: of lying naked with Leonard, of penetrating his body and joining with him, of making love with great tenderness and erotic excitement, of falling asleep in Leonard’s arms, listening to the beat of his Human heart. Then waking in the small hours to surrender himself to Leonard’s eager touch, to his mouth and his hands and the warm drawl of his voice, urging Spock on to greater heights of pleasure, until he felt as if his very bones were melting.

”You feel better?” Leonard asked. “You got some rest.”

”I would have eventually surrendered to my body’s need for sleep,” Spock said dryly. “There was no need to drug me, doctor.”

”You scared me, Spock.” Leonard’s eyes were troubled. “I was afraid you were going to make yourself sick if you didn’t rest.” He dragged a thumb across Spock’s lower lip, leaned in to kiss him. “I meant what I said last night. I love you.”

 _He loves you,_ the voice in his head sneered. _How completely illogical. How disgustingly Human._ Spock shook his head. “You don’t love me,” McCoy said. He was fighting to maintain a neutral expression, but Spock sensed the ravaged emotion underneath his calm façade.

”I am…not accustomed to expressing affection in so deliberate a manner,” Spock said. A shutter came down behind McCoy’s eyes and immediately he knew he’d misspoken. “Leonard.” Spock reached out for him. “You know I hold you in the greatest possible regard.”

McCoy sat up and got out of bed. “It’s past time I got back to work,” he said lightly. His voice held a forced levity, a pretense Humans often used to disguise emotional pain. He pulled his clothes on with a series of jerky movements and started for the door.

”Leonard, please.” Spock made to get out of bed, but McCoy was already at the door, which swished open at his approach and closed behind him. “Let me explain.”

It was too late. McCoy had already gone, and Spock was alone with the voice in his head.

…to be continued…


End file.
